


Rainy Days

by MsCFH



Series: Corporate AU [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCFH/pseuds/MsCFH
Summary: The struggle of a long distance relationship on a rainy day.





	Rainy Days

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this on Tumblr a while ago, but only here now because I did not have a title up until now.  
> Is written as part of the Corporate AU series, but does work as a standalone.

A soaking wet Margaery on the other side of the door melted the bright smile off Sansa’s face. Her clothes stuck to her skin, what for sure once had been a carefully styled half updo, hung down in dripping wet strands, her mascara was smudgy beneath her eyes and she was shivering so hard, her teeth was clattering.

“What in the world happened to you?”

She ushered her inside quickly, hoping that the temperature in her apartment held a bit more warmth than the hallway, taking the jacket off of her, and placing it on the coat rack, not bothering with a hanger.

Margaery hugged herself in attempt to warm herself, the strappy top not appropriate for the weather and only insignificantly dryer, still trembling as Sansa brought her further inside and rubbed her hands over her arms, scattered in goosebumps.

“In case you haven’t noticed it’s raining cats and dogs. Honestly if this is the weather in August, I don’t think this relationship will survive winter.”

Ignoring the bite in the reply, Sansa brought her to sit down on the couch, unfolding a blanket and draping it around Margaery’s shoulders.

Yes, the weather was not pleasant, even for the North untypical cold and the wind and rain did not add to make it better, but that still did not explain her appearance that looked like she had taken a dip into the White Knife river.

Sansa lifted her eyebrows. “Did you walk here from the airport?”

Brown eyes gave her a glare. “I took a taxi, I even had an umbrella, only both were futile against the van that seemed to aim for the biggest puddle the driver could find.”

With a sympathetic face Sansa sat down next to her, crossing her legs beneath herself and pulling Margaery close. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” she said.

“I have never been so cold, so fast in my life.”

Sansa could not help, but chuckle at the dramatic distress of her tone and words. “My poor delicate southern flower… Whatever happened to your blood running hot?”

Margaery managed a half smile then, the trembling ceasing the tiniest bit as she sunk into Sansa’s hold. “Don’t take my words out of context.”

“We could put them into the right context,” Sansa quipped. “That would warm you up fairly quickly.”

Wet hair brushed the skin on Sansa’s neck as Margaery’s head landed on her shoulder. “Give me a moment to feel my fingers again.”

Three good seconds later she exhaled soundly, raised her head again and looked up at Sansa with a smile that still held traces of misery.

“Hi,” she breathed.

Sansa smiled at the altogether disheveled appearance and placed a kiss on her lips. “Hi.”

Margaery connected their lips again sinking into the hold, visibly warming in it.

“I missed you,” Margaery said, her tongue darting out, letting Sansa’s attempt to return the sentiment die on the vine by deepening their kiss.

Sansa tightened her hold and sunk into the kiss, feeling still slightly cool lips warming under her touch, leaving her to hum with content against them.

“And I you,” she said in a short moment between kisses, her hand brushing back a wet strand of hair that stuck to Margaery’s face. “I think I just won’t let you leave this Sunday.”

“No objections if you keep this up.”

Margaery’s lips opened further and tentative teasing became fierce, then she slowed again; deep kisses morphed into pecks and a hand emerged from the blanket, leaving still cold fingers caressed Sansa’s cheek.

“How are you darling?” Margaery asked, knuckles brushed over Sansa’s cheekbone. “How was the rest of your week?”

Sansa cupped the hand touching her face, pulling it down far enough so she could kiss the heel of it, then she smiled. “I think I was stressed, but right now I can’t remember for the life of me why that was.”

Margaery smiled adoringly and settled the hand that Sansa had kissed, around her waist, her head resting on her shoulder again, snuggling safely against her.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

Sansa kissed the crown of her head, tightening her hold.

Every minute of the week she hated this long distance thing, hated the struggle aligning two full schedules, hated only hearing her, or seeing her through a screen, hated not having her around.

…and then she was back in her arms, and the joy of simply having her right here, all that frustrating pent up craving that came with missing her disappeared  into thin air, made the annoyance, the yearning worth it by a thousand.

Simple things like snuggling on a couch together, became so much more special because it was so rare, not something that they could do every day.

Sansa’s fingers trailed through damp hair. “And you? How was your week?”

She had sounded stressed the last time they had talked, had almost fallen asleep during their video chat, despite it only being relatively early in the evening.

“It sucked,” Margaery sighed. “In a way getting soaked like an alley cat was just about the perfect ending to it.”

“What happened?” Sansa’s tone was carefully probing.

The silence that followed had Sansa a bit concerned, because usually Margaery was someone who loved and needed to vent, who never hesitated to do so.

“It’s stupid,” Margaery finally answered. “And really too trivial to take into time that should be for us.”

That did not convince Sansa. “If it’s bothering you perhaps we should talk about it.”

“No.” She felt the shake of Margaery’s head more than actually seeing it. “Pondering is for business days.”

“You sure?” Sansa checked one last time.

Margaery’s face nuzzled against her skin and she breathed deeply. “Positive.”

Now properly warmed up, a certain tiredness became very evident, Margaery closed her eyes and her breath gradually became deeper and slower where it tickled Sansa’s neck.

“Are you tired? Should we get you to bed?”

Sansa’s fingers drew along the side of Margaery’s face. Sleep was not exactly what she’d been looking forward to in finally having her girlfriend in her arms, but, well, in the end even sleeping next to her, was something she loved enough to see it as a proper alternative.

Gods, when exactly had she become quite so domestic?”

“No,” Margaery hummed, her head not moving still, her eyes still closed. “I don’t want to waste time on sleep when I’m with you.”

It was a simple statement, but one that had Sansa’s stomach fluttering.

“Any particular alternative in mind?”

That drew a chuckle from Margaery. “Can I have a hot shower before I answer that?”

“It’ll get you out of those clothes,” Sansa smiled at Margaery’s who’s chin rested on her shoulder now as she looked at her again. “So I’m not opposed.”

Smiling lips kissed her own, and then she disappeared from her hold, the shivering returning as she left the blanket over the side of the couch.

“Will you join me?”

Even with a great amount of imagination, Sansa could not see a scenario where she would ever say no to that question.

The bathroom was as always warm, the floor heating coming through the tiles feeling pleasant beneath Sansa’s bare feet.

It took Margaery all of the two seconds in which Sansa turned on the shower, to drop her clothes in a small pile on the floor, leaving her completely naked by the time Sansa turned back around to her.

She wondered if there’d come a day where the sight of a naked Margaery would not leave that pleasant pull in her stomach. She hoped not.

With a slight shiver, Margaery went past her and right into the glass shower cabin that was slowly fogging up. Sansa was out of her sweats and top a moment later and still took a moment standing in the open shower door, admiring the sight of her girlfriend tilting back her head under the spray of water, eyes closed and her face relaxing.

Brown eyes fluttered open after the first few seconds of enjoying the pleasant warmth that the shower offered and caught her own, looking bashful for the split of a second, before she smirked challenging.

“Are you coming, or are you more for enjoying the show tonight?”

Sansa pulled the band that held her ponytail together out of her hair and stepped inside the shower, her fingers drifting along Margaery’s waistline up her sides, pulling her close and meeting her in a deep kiss once the hot spray of water had completely enwrapped both of them.  

“I’ve always been more of an active participant.”

The trademark lopsided smirk appeared and a shampoo bottle was held out to Sansa. “Good to hear.”

After a moment of disbelief Sansa chuckled, took the bottle and stepped around her so she stood behind Margaery. Needless to say her mind had associated a different purpose to a shared shower, but to her own surprise she found that she actually didn’t mind if Margaery had factual showering in mind. She of course would not mind other things, but in the end it was like holding her, or sleeping next to her in the same bed. It was the closeness to Margaery that she craved. If that came with an orgasm – great; but it didn’t matter much if it didn’t.

With a generous amount of shampoo in her hand she started spreading it into long curls, biting away a smile when Margaery shuddered for a moment at the cool shampoo touching her skull. That discomfort did not last longer than a few seconds, had altogether disappeared when fingers started to massage her head.

Sansa did not stop her soft massaging even when her hair was more than thoroughly soaped up, the top of her head resembling a cloud with all the white foam. Margaery did not speak a word through any of it, kept her eyes closed and her head tilted back. Only the occasional shift in her expression gave away if a particular touch had an effect on her.

Sansa kept going until she finally felt that some of the tenseness leave Margaery’s shoulders, until her face seemed to be as relaxed as if she was sleeping, until she felt confident that whatever had bothered and stressed her in the previous week, or even today, was gone from her mind at last.

Only then she activated the hand shower and flushed the foam from her hair. After she’d repeated the ordeal with the conditioner just as thoroughly a warm body was pressed against her front.

“You know,” Margaery’s voice sounded low, throaty like it did when she’d just woken up. “Should you ever want to look into a new career, shampoo girl is an alternative you could make a lot of money with.”

Sansa’s arms closed around Margaery, crossing just beneath her chest and with a smile she placed a kiss on her cheek.

“I expect you’re judgement of my performance is enhanced by your,” a hand slipped up and captured a breast, “general receptiveness to my touch.”

She heard Margaery smile rather than seeing it. “Yes, I suppose so. Aren’t we just grand at that whole giving and receiving?”

Fingertips skimmed over a puckered nipple, relenting from further teasing and returning to the hold on her waist.

“Bloody pros.”

Sansa lathered the shower gel between her palms before she brought both hands to Margaery’s shoulders and started rubbing the soapy foam over them, down her arms, fingers entangling with each other for a brief moment, before she moved back up, continuing her path over her cleavage. She felt hard nipples against her palms when her hands brushed over them on her way to exploring the soft skin of Margaery’s stomach. Only at her hips she halted for another moment, giving the curve of them a appreciative squeeze.

Her right hand brushed over the mound between Margaery’s legs as innocent as it never had before, barley even touching her, and still a sound of disappointment came from Margaery as she withdrew her hand back to her stomach.

“I think I might be sufficiently cleaned and warmed up now,” Margaery’s head turned towards Sansa’s face, her voice hoarser than before.

Sansa smiled and for a moment then she just held her close, let the water run over them and wash away the remains of soap and foam from her hands and Margaery’s body, then she met her lips in a sweet kiss, her tongue darting out to tease closed lips.

She felt pleasurable excitement rise within her, the one she’d tried to keep at a bay. She’d held herself back as much as anyone could who had a Margaery Tyrell – a naked Margaery Tyrell – pressed up against her. Really, she would need to be dead not to be affected by that.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom then?”

Carefully shaped eyebrows drew up. “You won’t finish what you started?” Margaery asked over her shoulder.

No, Sansa found to her own surprise.

She was ready to push up Margaery against the wall any other day but right now - she smiled to herself, perhaps she was in fact turning soft here - she did not want to fuck her against a cold tile wall. She wanted her on a soft mattress, surrounded by pillows, tangled in warm sheets and blankets, fall asleep in each other arms.

It was more than a mere physical longing for Margaery, she wanted to feel close to her, craved her proximity more than anything.

“Unless you insist,” Sansa said, “I do find the idea of you sprawled out in my bed with only some candle light a lot more appealing.”

Margaery took a moment to let the words sink in, then she turned in her arms, looking at her with a slight smile. “Are you a closeted romantic, Sansa Stark?”

Sansa shrugged. “You do bring out the worst in me after all if I turn down shower sex for old fashioned love making.”

“Love making, huh?” Margaery smirked her soft smirk and kissed her. “Who knew that was even part of your repertoire.”

“You’d be surprised by the real extent of my repertoire.”

With the statement Sansa thought that the same might go for herself. Almost every day she found herself somewhat surprised by the discovery of new lengths she’d go through for Margaery.

She’d subscribed to the ridiculous left-wing newspaper that Margaery read, because she wanted to be able to understand her point of view. Her kitchen was now equipped with a high-end coffee machine, her cupboard’s lined with three different boxes of coffee pads, because she knew Margaery needed a cup of coffee to properly start her day. She broke her rule of not letting herself be distracted from work, of not texting while at work, for sending Margaery stupid memes. Had given up her policy of not visiting any webpages that did not hold specific importance to her work to visit the page that had the weather forecast of the Reach, because knowing how the weather was there made her feel closer to her in a silly way. She had freaking vegan ice cream in her freezer and for the past three days she’d spent her evening trying to find a vegan recipe –

Her thoughts came to a screeching hold.

Fuck.

Bloody fucking shit.

She was out of the shower and wrapped up in a towel so fast she hardly noticed the look of pure irritation on Margaery’s face. Was out of the bathroom before Margaery even had a chance to form the question what the hell had gotten into her.

The smell of food being way past the desired doneness hit her nose before she had even reached the kitchen. It only took one look into the oven to confirm the suspicion that the dish was way beyond saving. Instead of a golden crust, black clumps stared back at her.

She withstood the instinct to pull the tray from the oven, figured that it would only set off her smoke detector, no matter how satisfying throwing the whole pan against the wall might have been. Instead she only turned off the oven and leaned against the counter opposite to it, water dripping down onto the floor from her hair.

So much for her talent as a cook.

Not that she had any to begin with. She was generally more of a baker than a cook, it suited her better. She could easily relax spending hours decorating a cake, but hated the multitasking, the continuous attention that cooking required.

Perhaps in retrospect she should have settled on baking, but had not brought herself to use the required substitutes on her mothers cheesecake recipe.

In the end she thought she’d settled on a casserole that seemed easy enough in preparation – fucking internet video tutorials making everything seem much easier than it was – and then just popped in the oven. Sort of like baking right? The casserole had looked acceptable enough when she’d popped it in the oven.

With a sigh Sansa took a moment to tighten the towel properly around herself and squeezed some of the water of her hair into the kitchen sink. Now that the initial adrenaline had settled the cold of the room hitting her wet skin was uncomfortable.

Margaery appeared in the kitchen a moment thereafter, wearing Sansa’s fluffy bathrobe, her hair wrapped up in a towel, her look somewhere between concern and curiosity.

“I forgot about dinner,” Sansa offered as an explanation. “I had dinner prepared.”

The concern ceased out of Margaery’s expression and a smile appeared on her face, as she came to a stop right in front of Sansa.

“You cooked me dinner?”

“Well, I burned it.”

Eyes full of adoration looked at her. “And what where we going to have?”

The print out of the recipe was still where she’d left it earlier and she handed it to Margaery.

“Mashed green bean casserole,” she read out loud and dropped the sheet back on the counter. “A vegan dish?”

Sansa nodded with a shrug.

They’d had a sort of fallout – not a real one – about this last week when Sansa had been in Highgarden and Margaery had dragged her to the one restaurant she’d not shut up about ever since their first attempts of going on a date.

Margaery’s reveal that she’d wanted to go there for the great vegan options, that she was a vegan had caught Sansa completely off guard. She had not known that and that had overwhelmed her, still did to some extent. Because… how did you miss something like that with the woman she’d been seeing for almost three months? Margaery might have not been vocal about it, made a big issue of it, but Sansa still felt embarrassed not knowing something so fundamental.

Her reaction to Margaery’s reason for veganism, her explanation that animal rights where very much a feminist issue, had perhaps not been the most fortunate, because she’d thought it to be a joke and she’d laughed, loud and long.

That night, while Margaery had assured that she was not upset with her, had left her with a guilty conscious still and the desire to make up for it. To let her know that she was supportive of her, if she understood it or not. Whether she found it reasonable or not.

Only this moment right here, was not how she’d imagined that moment to go. She’d planned to surprise Margaery with a delicious, elaborate, mouth-watering meal, not a burned dish that required a print out to gather what the intent had been.

“Don’t you hate cooking?”

Sansa found it a bit hard just then to read Margaery’s tone or expression. Was she irritated? Was she making fun of her? Was she genuinely confused?

“Yes and with good reason,” Sansa deadpanned, her eyes darting to the oven and then she sighed. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. I could tell you had a hard week.”

Eyes continued to look at her for another long quiet moment and then a body pressed her against her so tightly the kitchen counter dug into her backside and lips met her own in a soft kiss.

“I love you.”

Sansa was completely caught by surprise, so much that the first palpable thought that crossed her mind left her lips.

“You do?”

It was the stupidest possible response, so far from her usual composure, it was just…

“How do you come from me burning dinner to that?”

Sansa wanted to cringe at her own words just then. Again, as far as from a proper response as possible.

Margaery just continued to smile softly, her arms wrapping around Sansa. “I guess my mind works in curious ways,” she said with a tilt of her head. “It is just… that you are so genuinely upset about ruining your first vegan dish ever, that you made one in the first place. It is just about the sweetest thing possible. It makes me never want to let you go.”

That look of adoration shining in her eyes was not new, there had been countless moments where Sansa had been on the receiving end of it. Moments of intimacy, moments of fun and laughter, even moments of disagreement; only they all paled in comparison to this one. When they stood in a still slightly messy kitchen, a burned smell surrounding them.

And all because of three words.

Words which’s meaning only still very slowly made its way to her consciousness.  

Words that left her with this ridiculous giddy feeling bubbling in her chest, threatening to swallow her completely.

It was not what she had imagined this moment like.

Tonight had been nothing like she’d imagined it, and usually Sansa hated her plans falling through, but in this moment it didn’t matter.

At all.

Because with Margaery holding her, looking at her like she did… and on top of all of that, that _she loved her…_  

“I love you, too.” 

The smile that took over Margaery’s face was everything and Sansa could not do anything, but lean forward and kiss her, long and deeply. They rested their foreheads against each other for a long moment thereafter, smiling content and happily.

Only then something slightly mischievous came into Margaery’s smile and simultaneously her hands started to wander, fingertips drew over bare shoulders and her eyes followed them.

“As dinner is ruined anyway, perhaps we can get back to that plan of sprawling me out on your bed?” She looked up from what her fingers were doing with a certain glint.

“I still have vegan ice cream in the freezer,” Sansa returned with a coy smile.

“And you say that as if it is an obstacle…”


End file.
